An Empty Shell

Chapter 9

(Two weeks later)

Draco's POV:

Harry and I strolled through the Hospital courtyard, him looking at everything with rapt attention. His gaze snapped to everything that moved, and I knew he was amazed by every living thing outside of the cold and disinfectant-smelling hospital.

"So Ron's family has eight people?" 

I nodded. "It used to have nine, but then one of the twins, Fred, passed away." 

Harry frowned and looked down at the gravel under his feet. "How?" 

I sighed. "He got in a fight too. A big one. And he didn't make it out of it. But the other one," I started, hoping to cheer up Harry's sad face, "the bloke named Percy, he ran after the man who killed Fred and was able to get justice." But that only seemed to make Harry's frown deepen. "What?" I asked, and he sighed.

"Percy was just trying to do what was right, but I can't help but wonder if the person who killed Fred had a reason. I mean, everyone always thinks they're doing what's right. He was just doing his job." 

I thought for a moment, then shook my head. "No. I know the person who killed him. He wasn't good. He was cold and capricious and absolutely untrustworthy. Why the Dark Lord---" I cut off, realizing I had said too much.

Harry looked up, obviously having caught my discomfort. "The Dark Lord? Who's---" He suddenly grabbed my arm in an iron-grip, and I quickly turned to face him. He was doubled over, his free wrist pressed against his obviously throbbing temple.  

"Harry? What is it?" 

He shook his head, seemingly unable to speak. 

"Red-red eyes," he gasped after several moments, then he looked up at me through slightly watering eyes. "Red eyes under a black hood." 

I looked at him in shock. "You remember?" 

He shook his head. "No. But...I see that." He slowly stood up, but kept a hand on my arm, as he was slightly swaying. 

He thought for a while, still massaging his head, then slowly spoke. "It's...It's like there's a wall in my mind. There's a wall, and I can't break it down, but somehow, thoughts and memories still slip through the cracks." I pondered what he said as we continued walking.

"Do you understand the memories that make it through?" 

He shook his head. "Not really. I can't remember them long enough to piece them together. It's like a vacuum sucks it all away before I can even try to start." 

I frowned, mulling over everything he had said. And was trying to figure out what a vacuum was.

***

Harry's POV:

I sat back on the bed that had been morphed from a hospital one to one with warm blankets and soft sheets, thinking.

As soon as Draco had mentioned the someone called The Dark Lord, I had gotten those memories. They had felt so cold, and I had felt a rush of fear wash over me, but then it was gone. Like it had never been. The only thing that told me it had was Draco's pale and worried face. He honestly looked more worried than I had.

"Knock knock." I looked up at Draco's voice, and my curiosity was immediately piqued when I saw that he was holding something behind his back.

"What've you got?" I asked, and he shrugged as he sat down opposite me.

"I don't know." 

I gave him a look, and he smiled, which made me grin.

He moved his hand in front of him and I saw that it was holding a leather-bound journal that had a thick piece of string wrapped around it, binding the pages.

"You said how you didn't ever remember the memories that come back in, so I figured at least this way you could write them down." 

My grin widened, and I was slightly speechless.

I had gotten loads of gifts from Ron and Hermione, the Weasleys, a girl named Luna who I learned had been my friend, a bloke named Neville who apparently had been in the fight with me, and a couple named Seamus and Dean---Hermione called them Deamus for some reason---but Draco had never given me anything. Well, except someone to talk to. That was honestly better than anything else.

"I love it!" I said happily, and I saw his eyes sparkle a bit. I liked that sparkle. It looked good on him, but it was almost never there. Except when he was with me.

"So." Draco moved forward, then pulled out the box of food that I had attempted to hide underneath my blankets.

"So?" I asked in an innocent voice. He gave me a look, and a sheepish grin appeared on my face. "I'm not hungry! I don't like their food. It's so bland, I may as well be eating paper. Only I reckon the paper would taste better." 

Draco chuckled. He thought for a moment, then scribbled something on the first page of the journal, took my arm, and suddenly I was surrounded by blackness and I felt that I was suffocating. What. The. Hell.